


Hetalia Drabble Games

by Abejas



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23506381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abejas/pseuds/Abejas
Summary: A collection of prompt based drabbles I've done, mostly featuring Prussia!
Kudos: 10





	1. Falling out of Love | Pru/Nyo!Aus+Nyo!Aus/Hun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Falling out of Love. Pru/Nyo!Aus +Nyo!Aus/Nyo!Hun. Also Love Triangles!

At dawn, Prussia slips from her arms and the ache in Austria’s heart is a more dangerous secret than the night she spent with him between her parted legs. He rises from her bed and dresses with the sullen briskness of a man who knows another will be stirring soon to greet his bride. These days he’s fallen silent to punish her with his disapproval, but it is a relief to her conscience to hear nothing and have him gone once the deed is done.

This is wrong, she knows, but he has driven her to this cruelty. She had warned him before his betrayal and wars that an empire can never forgive humiliation. He hadn’t heeded. She hopes the name he’s crowned himself with is worth this devastation. 

‘Kingdom’. Ridiculous. 

“I can tell, you know,” Prussia mumbles as if reading her thoughts, his calloused fingers carefully examining the wedding ring abandoned among the clutter of her vanity. “You only love me when you’re lonely.


	2. Gold |Prussia + HRE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Gold. The Teutonic Order and The Holy Roman Empire. 143 words

The coins hit the marble floor with a clang that rings sickeningly in the Order’s head. He winces at the noise, the light glittering from the coins as they spin across the tiles. The boy empire smiles from his perch, doll-like and cruel in his dark silk robes, and tosses the empty purse at the Order’s feet.

“That is all there is to spare for dying states in foriegn lands,” The child gestures, his small hands heavy with jewels. “Collect your due, Knight, and be gone.” 

The Order is too frail to fight for dignity he has long lost. It is more grief than anger that carries his words as he falls on bruised knees to collect his gold. 

“You little bastard,” He chokes out, his shaking hands scrambling for coins. “There’ll be a day you’ll wish you had been kind to me.”


	3. Scratches | Prussia + Poland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scratches Poland and The Teutonic Order. Set somewhere after the Order’s defeat in battle. I like to HC there being a period of Imprisonment while they decided what to do with him. Very mild Injury TW 158 words

“You’re bleeding.” 

Poland’s tone is unimpressed and for once the Order feels a bit foolish. He is curled on the floor of his cell with his forehead split open, dripping blood his frail body cannot quite afford to lose. 

“I-It’s just a scratch. Tch–! Ow!” 

“That’s not a scratch!” Poland gasps, gripping the Order’s face between two hands, sweeping blood from his eyes. “This is like a giant wound! In the middle of your head!! Did you do this to yourself?!”

“It was a fuckin’ accident!” The Order huffs angrily, pulling away from Poland’s grip.

“Liar! How did this happen?!” 

“Got pissed off, slammed my damn head a little too hard against your fuckin’ shit brick wall! That’s all!” His answer is enough to bring Poland pause, his bright green eyes fixing on him in disbelief. 

“Are you insane?! If you wanna bash your brains in to blow off steam, Call down Liet, he’ll do it for you!”


	4. Punishment/Spanking | Prussia + Austria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Punishment. Prussia + Austria. VAGUE HISTORY maybe bad tenses who knows. CW Spanking with a Birch

“Do you find this amusing?” Austria’s voice is barely controlled, his soft cadence hardened with the ice of anger. "Does it gratify you to undermine me to your men when I am paying for your services?”

“A little,” Prussia breathes, squirming in his lap, “Never seen you this damn pissed before, you’re not usually this much of a cunt– ! _Ow –!_ ” 

The blows that cut him off are an instant penance. A furious succession of slaps that drives Prussia to the limit of his tolerance. The blows are thunderous as they land, each one an explosion of pain that sends him into a fit of frantic movement in a bid to avoid the worst of it to little avail. The welts rise crimson and searing on white skin, bruising mercilessly through his thin breeches. 

“St – Stop! Jesus!”

“Are you still entertained?” The question is dangerous with Austria’s birch resting against his thighs but Prussia is too furious to care. He laughs outright at the question, an ugly bark of spite in the face of considerable discomfort. 

“Are you entertained?! Is mutiny really shocking to you, hah? Seriously! I thought with how much you let everyone fuck you over these days, you’d not blink an eye at me! What gives?! Didn’t get your day’s fill of Turkish cock, did you?!” The response is foolish, vicious and venomous in delivery, the words spat in a nasty rush that leaves no room for regret as Austria responds in kind, yanking Prussia's breeches to his knees with a single fluid movement, his birch a blur of force and heat against bruised and welted bare skin. It is enough to beat the mirth out of Prussia’s demeanor, his defiant cackles giving way to desperate cries.

“You’re an insolent beast of a man,” Austria growls in his ear, a trembling note in his voice betraying his fury. “Enough of this. Get up. I am disgusted with you.”


	5. Mercy Killing | Prussia + Austria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mercy Killinig
> 
> Prussia + Austria TW Graphic descriptions of Injuries/Dying and defintely not taking it seriously

Prussia laughed and instantly regretted it, choking on the blood flooding his bullet ridden lungs. 

“You stupid bastard,” he spat, red foam splattering against Austria’s pristine white boots. 

“First off, how the fuck did you miss the heart?! Secondly, why wouldn't you make sure the brat was dead before turning your back on him?! And thirdly, why wouldn’t you strip the fuckin’ kid of his weapon?!”

Austria stared down cooly at Prussia’s writhing, dying body and did not answer. If he felt apologetic for the other man’s agony or gratitude for Prussia shielding him from the gunfire of a young french boy Austria had struck down and took wrongly for dead he was doing a shitty job of doing it. 

Stupid rookie mistake, Prussia tried to follow up angrily, exactly why prettied up useless aristocrats had no fucking business playing at soldier. The words came out strangled and incomprehensible, blood flooding Prussia’s mouth faster than he could expel it. It brought the exact sort of revolted frown to Austria’s face that gave him a double chin from Prussia’s perspective. 

Prussia laughed again and this time exploded into a violent fit of coughing that almost certainly splattered blood on the hem of Austria’s uniform. He heaved for air heavily, his pierced lungs rattling with every breath. 

His gaze caught Austria’s. Cold and beautiful blue eyes met his severely, and even dying, Prussia keenly felt the censure. It was pointless for a nation to resist death, senseless suffering for beings blessed with immortality, yet here Prussia was, struggling.

Messily.

He could almost taste the disgust radiating from Austria, but perhaps that was just the blood he was aspirating into his already distressed airways. Either way, Prussia had to admit, this was shaping up to be an unpleasant experience.

A foot thumped down hard on his chest, Prussia wheezed in complaint, shot a withering glare upwards to the impassive face peering down on him.

"Tell me, do you have any intention of dying before Frankreich catches up with us, you fool?" Austria demanded, shifting his full weight down on Prussia, drawing a sharp, anguished cry from him. 

Prussia groaned in the negative, stubbornly uncaring that he was too wounded, too heavy and in too much pain for Austria to move him quietly enough to make a safe retreat possible, that he was more a burden wounded than dead. He hated dying, resented it even more in front of Austria who seemed to relish in his death with a bit too much pleasure for his tastes. 

Austria tutted, it was the last thing Prussia heard before a flash of steel seared sudden heat into his rib cage. A clean stab through the heart. 

As he died, Prussia felt the gloved fingers of Austria slip to his neck to relish in the slowing rhythm of his pulse. With the last of his strength, he rolled his eyes. At least this time the worthless prince actually remembered to ensure the bastard he had just stabbed was actually dead, and not just pretending.


	6. War Wounds | Prussia / Fem!Austria  (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Character Death | Sex while Grievously Injured /Dying |

The fucking’s better when he’s dying, Prussia muses to himself as Austria straddles him. She’s dressed like an angel tonight, her white shift is all sheer silk and lace, radiant in the soft morning light, her dark hair sweetly curled from her bath, dripping rose-scented bathwater onto his eyelashes.

She is lovely; though the drip of her hair reverberates through his concussed head like a symphony of gunfire exploding in the distance. She feels far away and feverishly close all at once, through blurred eyes he takes in what comfort he can of her face, his trembling hands sinking into her thighs, urging her closer.

She obliges, and he draws her into a kiss that is reckless for the nearly dead. But she is unconcerned about the catch to his breathing, the agony every moment brings him, the desperate desire he has to die like this: tasting her.

He bites her lip as she pulls away with a tut, grinding her hips against the erection he’s got bundled in his breeches. He groans as she moves, fresh gunshot wounds weeping down to the feather mattress. Stains he hopes she whips him for when he awakens.

Death is an urgent sleep for their kind and he cannot keep his eyes open as she frees his cock from his trousers. He is barely breathing when she guides him inside her, gasping as she works against him. 

The fucking’s definitely better when he’s dying. Pity makes Austria generous. She makes quick work of him as she rides him, indulgent with her attention, merciless to his war wounds as she rolls her hips to a furious rhythm years of practice has proven effective. Prussia is alive with sound, his pleasure coiling around his pain like a loyal dog at its master’s feet, driving him closer at a fervent pace. 

In the darkness, all he hears is the roar of his heart, the soft exclamations from Austria cutting through his own explosive moans and cries. All there is in the world is the rocking bed, the throbbing of his cock lost between the wet heat of her legs.

His climax steals him of breath and strength, she holds him as he struggles through it, finishing herself as he jostles her with his writhing. She laughs as she comes, melodic and carefree with the victory he has brought her in the war with France. 

That is how he dies today; with her laughter like a song in his ears. His body drained of strength, still inside her as she relishes the last shocks of delight from him. She holds him in her arms after he’s stilled like she loves him again, pressing tender kisses to bruises on his eyelids and brushing away the few tears that have gathered there. It makes his chest swell with a prayer she might someday forgive him everything, a wish that aches deeper than the last strangled beats of his exhausted heart.


End file.
